


Streetside Talk

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Canon Era, Gen, M/M, post strike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2019-09-27 20:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17168852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Jack runs into Denton by chance, and they talk about David.





	Streetside Talk

“Chaos crossing Brooklyn Bridge! Crazed motorist shoots three civilians! Untold bloodshed!” 

Jack’s voice rang out clear through the chilly November morning. He’d chosen a selling spot conveniently close to the aforementioned bridge, and it was enough to make passersby regard the structure with suspicion, as if it might start slinging bullets at their faces.

“Trying to keep the people of New York on this side of the river?” Said a voice from behind him. A large hand fell on Jack’s shoulder and he spun around to see a taller man with a friendly smile and a very familiar bowtie. 

“Gotta make sure folks got all the facts. Ain’t like there’s much of use on the other end of that bridge anyways,” Jack said glibly. He let his right hand drop from where he’d been holding his paper high in the air, spat in it, and offered it for Denton to shake. Jack hadn’t really meant to do it that way. Denton wasn’t a newsie, and from some comments David had made about germs, Jack could only imagine that most people expected to get consumption every time they swapped a bit of spit. To Denton’s credit, though, he grasped Jack’s hand firmly and didn’t even make a face as he wiped the wetness off against the side of his neatly pressed trousers. “So, when’d you get back from the warzone?” Jack asked.

“I’m not sure I have, what with the bloodbath on the Brooklyn Bridge.” 

_Blood bath. Blood bath. Blood bath on the Brooklyn Bridge. Brooklyn Bridge Blood Bath._ Jack grinned. That was good – really good. Not the kind of thing that’d be easy to say five times fast, but snappy and memorable. It’d make a great headline. 

“So, you gonna to buy a pape or not?” Jack asked. “Or will the big bosses call you a traitor if they catch you reading one of the other papers?” 

“They actually encourage us to keep abreast of the competition,” Denton said, reaching into his pocket. 

Jack held up his hand to stop him. “Hey, this one’s on the house, alright?” he said, thrusting the paper into his hands. He’d been curious to see if Denton would be willing to buy the obviously exaggerated headline, but taking money from him felt strange. It’d be uncomfortable, like trying to sell a paper to Medda, or Kloppman, or even Dave’s folks. 

Denton took the paper without comment. Seeing that Denton was scanning the snooze fest on the front page in search of where Jack had gotten his story, Jack stepped next to him and helped him flip three pages back, pointing to the small block of text that had given him his inspiration. 

“Three Persons Shot But Nobody Hurt: No Harm Done Beyond Causing Wild Excitement,” Denton read out loud. He looked quickly at the rest of the article, and then back up at Jack, eyebrows raised questioningly. 

“So,” Jack said. “Those people who were shot but weren’t hurt? They was civilians. You oughta know that, ‘cause it means they weren’t fighting in a war.”

“The word conjures up an image of war time casualties,” Denton said. The reporter had a look in his eyes like he was trying not to smile, and Jack grinned wider. 

“Right. It makes people more excited to read, and it ain’t even a lie. Same with the bloodshed. It’s untold on account of there being nothing to tell about. The article says the guy used to operate a trolley cart. So he’s a motorist. Anyway, it’s just about the best article we’ve got today.”

“Impressive,” Denton said. He sounded like he meant it. His eyes ran over the article one more time, before he closed the paper and refolded it. 

“So was yours,” Jack said, since it seemed polite to try and repay a compliment with a compliment. “About the bloodbath,” Jack explained, noticing that Denton looked confused. “You should use more words like that when you write your war articles. Do another favor for the newsies.” 

“Who’s to say I don’t?” 

“Dave.” 

“David thinks that my headlines aren’t morbid enough?”

“Nah, not Dave. He just keeps track of your articles is all. Lets me know what you’re writing, and what your headlines are. I can decide for myself if they’re catchy or not,” Jack rambled. He was starting to realize that Denton might think he was insulting his headlines, so he added hurriedly, “Dave, he really likes your articles. He underlines the good parts. Actually, his Pa told him to do that, you know, to go through the newspapers and find examples of good writing. Mostly he sticks to stuff from the World, but he’ll usually buy a copy of the Sun when it’s got one of your articles. He underlines your stuff a lot.”

Denton made a dismissive sort of sound, but he liked what Jack was saying. Jack could tell. He wondered if Dave would like that he’d told him, though. David could get all closed off and private about the weirdest things, especially things that he liked, like marking up newspaper articles and talking with Jack about what kinds of stories needed to be covered more, and how they’d go about doing it. Such conversations usually ended abruptly, with some kind of comment from David about study and gainful employment, as if doing something he liked couldn’t possibly be gainful. And yeah, Jack got why David needed to do all kinds of gainful stuff, because he had a family to look after, but every time he heard David say that word he started to hate it a little more. 

“So, what _is_ David up to these days?” Denton asked, as if he could read Jack’s mind and figure out where it’d gone. Or maybe just to fill silence. 

“He ain’t selling no more.” Jack said. 

“Back in school?” 

Jack nodded. “For about a week and two days now. Practically forever,” Jack shifted the weight of his papers from one arm to another. “Has to study a lot. Says exams are in December, and he’ll get tested on all the stuff he didn’t learn when he was out here with the rest of us guys. But hey, he still stops buy the lodge. Well, he did once. Told Mush something about how frogs respirate the other day.”

Denton nodded. “I see.” A pause. “Seems like a shame.” 

“Yeah. He’ll be okay. He’s smart. He’ll learn everything real quick.” 

“I’d say he learned a lot of things out here that his exams aren’t going to measure.” 

Jack had to laugh at that, “Yeah, like what goes on backstage at Irving Hall.”

“Among other things,” Denton said slowly. Nothing much went on backstage at Irving Hall, but Jack saw no reason to tell Denton that.

“How to convince the customers that the little brown splotches all over the pape you’re trying to sell ain’t blood, even if they are,” Jack added.

Denton looked surprised, but that was just what Jack had been hoping for. “Dare I ask?”

“Somebody punched Snipes in the nose, so Dave helped him get fixed up and I helped him get his papers sold,” Jack explained.

“Ah.” 

“Speaking of papes,” Jack hefted up his. Denton nodded.

“I know, I know. They aren’t going to sell themselves.”

“Right,” Jack said, though he almost regretted that he had to be on his way. Denton was an okay guy, and talking to him made Jack think of the past summer, just after they’d won the strike, when everything had been really good. 

“Oh, and Jack…” Denton called as Jack was walking away. Jack turned. “You know where I live. You and David stop by sometime if you want to discuss the newspaper business.”

“I’ll tell him,” Jack said. “He’d probably like that.”


End file.
